Sitting on a File Cabinet, Naked, With a Gun

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Contents

Dedication.......................................................viiForeword.........................................................ixAcknowledgments..................................................xiIntroduction.....................................................xiiiSitting on a File Cabinet, Naked, With a Gun.....................1An Iron Fist in a Velvet Glove...................................5What Was I Thinking!?!...........................................11Taking "Temp-to-Perm" to a Whole New Level.......................17Go Back to Your Desk!............................................25Great Expectations...............................................29Panic Room.......................................................35Missing in Action................................................39Planes, Trains, and Handling Change..............................45Blackout in New York.............................................49Two Ships Passing in the Night...................................57The French Connection............................................61Thinking Inside the Box..........................................65Jumping Through Hoops............................................69Just Trust Me....................................................73Don't Underestimate Me...........................................77Reality Check....................................................81A Dream of a Job.................................................85It Will Never Happen Again.......................................89Up the Creek Without a Passport..................................91A Day Late and Many Dollars Short................................97You Didn't Know This Was the Interview?..........................101Your Carriage Awaits, Milord.....................................103Mission Impossible...............................................105What Is It With Guys and Cars?...................................109Connecting the Dots..............................................113Whatever It Takes................................................117

Chapter One

Joanne Linden, chief executive assistant at Synopsys, shares a story about a colleague at a prior company, Carol, who worked in the chaotic environment of high finance. At fiscal year-end, Carol was being pulled in all directions. Her stress level was at its peak when a coworker intervened with a story about a former colleague-an executive assistant to a CEO who had an unusual way of handling stress.

"It's not stress that kills us; it is our reaction to it." - Hans Selye

My friend Carol, whom I've known for 17 years, is the epitome of the cool, calm, and collected executive assistant. She's flawlessly groomed, utterly competent, and maintains a patient smile on her face at all times.

What's surprising is that she maintains this demeanor in a crazy environment-finance. You may not think that a bunch of accountants with calculators in their pocket protectors would be a particularly wild group, but when the end of the fiscal year approaches, watchout! Stress levels reach their peak, and there's a constant line of people at Carol's desk, each insisting on bringing something to the CFO's attention immediately.

One day, my coworker "Cheryl" and I found Carol in the break room, slamming cabinet doors and cursing: "Where the *@!# is the chamomile tea? Nothing is ever where it's supposed to be. Am I the only one who puts things back where they belong? This whole place is a mess."

Cheryl and I exchanged glances. This was not the Carol we knew and loved. Cheryl plunged in, "Having a bad day, honey?"

Carol grimaced, "It's fiscal year end. Need I say more? If I have one more investor relations prima donna trying to barge into John's office without going through me, I'm going to murder him-or her. I literally had to throw myself in front of John's door just now to keep Her Royal Highness Miss Princess Know-It-All from busting in. You know who I mean. I told her John gave me strict orders not to disturb him under any circumstances. She gave me a tongue-lashing and told me that if the stock takes a dive because I insisted on following 'protocol,' she would make sure everyone knows it was my fault. Now, where the hell is the chamomile tea?"

Cheryl walked past Carol to a cabinet under the sink. "I have a secret stash under here," Cheryl cooed. "Why don't you take a seat, girlfriend, and I'll make this cup for you." Cheryl put her arm maternally around Carol's petite shoulders and guided her to a table. She pulled the chair out for her, sat her down, patted her perfectly coiffed head, then went back to the sink to make three cups of tea. Meanwhile, I sat down next to Carol and tried to get her to take some slow, deep breaths.

Cheryl brought the tea over and took a seat. "Carol, would you like to hear about a coworker I once had? She had kind of an unusual way of handling her stress. It might be just what the doctor ordered for you right now."

Carol took a sip of tea and just nodded, with utter defeat written on her face. It was clear to Carol that nothing would help, but she was willing at least to pretend to listen. I turned to Cheryl with a look of anticipation, ready to hear another one of her infamous stories. (It seemed that Cheryl had an endless supply.)

"I used to work at a small start-up," Cheryl began, "which shall remain nameless to protect the 'guilty.' One of the women there-I'll call her 'Sheila'-was the executive assistant to the CEO, but she had to wear lots of other hats as well. She always seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown because she worked day and night with no let-up. She didn't know how to say 'no' when it came to her workload, and the stress would really get to her. Occasionally, she would blow up at someone, but she always recovered, except for this one time.

"One evening, as everyone was leaving, Sheila was still at her desk, trying to finish a report for a board meeting the next day. Apparently, she didn't have all the information she needed to complete the report, and she was in a total panic. Talk about stress! She was so far gone that when I asked her if there was anything I could do to help, she just mumbled something unintelligible and waved her arms at me to go away. I'm not sure if she even heard me; but either way, I got the message to steer clear.

"The next morning, the CEO was the first to arrive. Well, Sheila had never gone home. As he walked in the front door, she was directly in front of him, sitting on a file cabinet, naked, with a gun."

At this point, Cheryl sat back and took a long sip of her tea. She raised her eyes, looked slowly at Carol, then at me, and put the teacup down. Both of us were frozen in our seats, with our jaws dropped.

After the initial shock, Carol was the first to recover. "I guess I don't have it that bad after all. But if you see me going near a file cabinet, stop me, okay?" At that remark, we all laughed.

From then on, whenever Cheryl, Carol, or I realized we were having an especially stressful day, we would call up one of the other two and simply say, "I'm heading for the file cabinet."

The other would reply, "Do you...